Love fuels our dreams, brightens our days
by munkinette
Summary: Rumbelle AU, where Belle is a scientist and Mr Gold is threatening to cut off her funding. Or, is he?
1. Invested in your future

**thestraggletag prompted Scientist!Belle for the "six months of Rumbelle" anniversary :o)**

* * *

When she hears the phone in the other room ringing _again_, Belle is unable to keep herself from rolling her eyes and clenching her fists in exasperation, which causes her to drop to the floor the cuvette she was about to insert into the spectrometer. She knows from over two years of tiresome experience that the reason for their secretary's phone to be ringing unceasingly throughout the day is either that her research group has made a breakthrough discovery, or that Mr. Gold, the CEO of Gold Corporation, is menacing to cut off their funding. And from the direction in which their research has been going lately, or rather not going, she knows it has to be the latter. Again.

As she bends over to pick up the cuvette, she lets out a relieved breath, thankful when she realizes that it is merely chipped. She certainly wouldn't want to have to add another expensive item to the acquisitions list sent for approval to Gold's bureau, even if, in this particular case, _he _would be the one responsible for her breaking the darn thing. That smug bastard!

She was fine at first with going up to his office to present their results to him, as it seemed to keep the funds coming. She'd do that any time and place anyway, in front of any soul willing to hear her, and would do it in a heartbeat even after sleepless nights spent working on Powerpoint slides and finishing up experiments. There was no drawback strong enough to quench Belle's passion for science, particularly for the alternative energy sources her research group was currently working on, when she knew that the team's success would translate into the well being of so many people.

And so she did her presentations in front of Mr. Gold, at first about once a semester, then every couple of months, until it became a monthly duty and now it seemed that he was requesting her presence on a weekly basis. And she couldn't shake the feeling that her group selected her for this task as a kind of offering to Mr. Gold, if his intent, wolfish stares at her during said presentations were any indication. She wasn't quite sure on how she felt about that. The man was quite dashing, his mind sharp, his taste impeccable and his Scottish brogue… well, Belle didn't even want to think about what it did to her, but she would not be put on display for anyone's entertainment, nor would Gold steal any more of her precious time in the lab.

Well, if it would be up to Mr. Gold, Belle would be moving her entire research to his office. Forever. And it was, actually, he gloated at the thought as a satisfied grin contoured on his face. He picked up the phone and barked instructions at his secretary, ending with telling her to call Belle's research team for what it was the ninth time that afternoon. Since Belle kept postponing sending him her response on when she would be coming to share her data with him, he decided to simplify her situation by moving her and her entire group here altogether. The frequent visits were no doubt interfering with her work, and so he thought everyone would be more efficient and substantially happier with her coming to work into his building. Particularly himself.

He would give her a fair laboratory and an office, and make sure they're right around the corner from his own, of course. Then he could invite her to grab lunch with him. Scientists do have lunch, don't they? He could offer to escort her home, when she'd put out long hours on the job, just like he usually did. He was expecting for these things to happen… eventually. What he wasn't expecting was for Dr. Belle French to storm into his office that very late afternoon, putting a stop to his trail of thoughts by walking up to his desk and bracing her hands on it to stare him right in the eye.

"What did you mean exactly by 'Please inform Dr. French that she will be conducting her research inside a new facility'?" A flushed Belle nearly shouted at him as she fought to control her breathing and to keep her hands firm on his desk instead of letting them plunge towards his jaw. "Are you firing me, Gold?" Her eyes were locked onto his, awaiting for his answer.

Gold had to fight for his composure as well and, in the process, decide if he was displeased by her tone or overwhelmed to see her blue eyes so close for the first time. When he was able to shift his gaze from hers, he noticed that she was still wearing her lab coat and he knew it took her exactly eight minutes and fifteen seconds to storm out of her edifice and into his. It had to, since it took him, cripple as he was, the double to do the same, every evening that he would work until late and notice the flickering light coming out of her laboratory's window. So far, his every attempt to see her those evenings failed at her door, with him turning around and leaving without gathering enough courage to knock. On the other hand, every time she went up to his office, she stormed in. That's why she was a brave little thing and he was, despite all appearances, a coward. That realization only prompted him to over-compensate by arming himself up with witty retorts.

"Whatever do you mean, dearie?" and he did just say that on purpose, to rattle her more. It worked, considering her dangerously narrowing eyes.

"Oh, you meant the message my secretary has left for yours. Well, it would have been my pleasure to announce you personally, but you don't seem eager to answer any of my calls."

"Your… pleasure?" she grinded between her teeth.

"To inform you that you are now the proud owner of a fully equipped laboratory in the main Gold Industries building, of course." He grinned wolfishly once more and this time Belle's jaw almost unhinged. Smugly, he continued: "You see, I was paying attention to your presentations, dearie. What has it that you needed? A Raman spectrophotometer, named after that famous Indian scientist you were telling me stories about? A computer cluster to run your simulations? Well, they are all, and much more, down the corridor, awaiting your lovely presence." He ended his phrase stepping up from his chair and giving a flourished bow that was completely unnecessary but had the desired effect, winning him points for style and making Belle unable to restrain a soft giggle, and _when _did all her anger fade away?

"I… I don't know what to say…" And she truly didn't, because she didn't know if she was being shamelessly bought or bribed, merely humoured or spoiled in the sweetest way. Maybe she needed more time with this man to figure it out. To figure him out. It was certainly an offer she couldn't refuse. She managed a "Thank you" that almost startled him, and he tentatively replied "It's… no matter."

"Of course it is! With this kind of equipment we could really move forward in our research! I might have really good news to give you on my next presentation." She teased and looked at him expectantly, raising an eyebrow.

"The presentation, indeed. I confess I might have grown a little bit addicted to your exposing skills, Ms. French." She laughed genuinely and he looked slightly embarrassed and God, the intimidating CEO of Gold Corporation was certainly cute when he blushed.

"Well… " he cleared his voice, "before I leave you to explore your new kingdom", a genuinely sweet smile spreading across his lips, "going back to that annoying little matter of you not being reachable by phone…" he stared intently at her.

"Oh… that…" Belle became flustered… "well, I'm not one for socializing, not if I can use my time more productively instead."

"That makes two of us, Ms. French. However, would you be opposed to giving me your personal number, to be used only in case of an emergency, of course?" He gestured largely with his hands, as if a fire was already starting to spread in the corners of the room.

"Not at all, Mr. Gold", she smiled sheepishly. She had a feeling an emergency would present itself very soon.

* * *

**In case anyone's wondering, the image cover of the story is indeed a little heart obtained by me, by accident, while recording data with said Raman spectrophotometer. ;)**


	2. What ails you, child?

**Thank you all for the kind response to this little prompt! How about I continue the story and see where it takes us? :)**

* * *

And so Belle's cellphone rang, oh, rang it did. At first it was Mr. Gold's secretary calling out throughout the first days in the new lab, getting out of her way to accommodate Belle and her team to their workspace, see to it that every little thing was to their liking. Then it was Belle's friend Emma's turn to call and ask Belle if she could babysit her son, Henry, while Emma would go out on literally her first date in years with some "hunk of a police officer" - Emma's words. Belle spent that evening playing video games and devouring Apollo chocolate bars the kid, and that night comforting, via phone, a heartbroken Mary Margaret who had just broken up with the man she still referred to as "her prince charming".

After those hectic first days, Belle has begun to lose track of her telephone conversations, drifting between secretaries asking her to come down to their old bureau to sign some form or deliver the occasional paperwork, reagent suppliers calling to perfect agreements and set up delivery dates, Dr Whale confirming test results on their samples and pc techs howling about how her team is frying the company's servers by running molecular simulations all day long. As puzzled and distracted as these brand new activities had kept her, Belle couldn't help but wonder, every couple of nights while laying in bed sorting through her messages, when has she become so important for all these people to call her incessantly, and yet so insignificant that the one call she expected failed to come. As uncomfortable as it had been to have Mr. Gold's full attention, she reluctantly had to accept that the lack of it made her feel far worse. She hated herself whenever these thoughts came, furious that her mind would occupy itself with futile hypothesising on the actions of an egotistical bastard she barely knew.

During their first week, the team was thrilled to discover that not only did they now possess a small refreshment room adjacent to the lab, but it was fully supplied with every sort of tea imaginable. Curious and fond of tea, Belle took a moment to study them all and found some blends that she didn't even know existed. A particular Irish breakfast tea, flavoured with wild strawberries and forest berries*, drew her attention, and she made a habit of making herself a cup every morning before starting work. The team was even more surprised when, beginning with their second week, several chocolate assortments started to populate the cupboards of their tea room, neither of them aware of the person responsible for their magic appearance. While the guys sneered at the sight of the sweet delicacies (unless they had skipped three meals and starving), Belle found the rose petal chocolates to be the fairest she'd ever tasted, and would sneak up into the room in between experiments to nick one. By the third week everyone was well settled, results were starting to flow, the manic days all but forgotten, and even Belle's phone was slowly sliding into its lethargy that preceded her translocation. Only the thoughts on Mr. Gold's unexpected absence kept returning, against her will.

Surprisingly, although the new lab was meters away from his office, Belle barely saw the man. She'd caught a few glimpses of him when he was heading out for lunch, which was only about once a week, when a business meeting requested his attendance. He'd always take the elevator to the left of his office, and he had this little habit of caressing the handle of his cane, then gently throwing it up, just a few inches, into the air and swinging it on its way back, a gesture so subtly playful that reminded Belle of Fred Astaire movies and urged her to improper giggles. That was usually when she came to her senses, realized that she'd been staring, and she'd retreat once more into the lab. Belle never went out for lunch. Sometimes, when even the delicious rose chocolates failed to be a proper substitute for dinner, she'd imagine Mr. Gold knocking on the lab door to ask if she'd like to accompany him for a meal or, even better, to bring her back a small treat from his rare lunches out. However occupied her mind was with work, it seemed like it always found a little time to reminisce about him. Belle groaned to herself and forced her hands to steady as she was dropping sulphuric acid into water. An explosion would certainly conjure herself a less tamed Mr. Gold than the one in her fantasies.

There was that one late evening, a month after they'd moved into the Gold Corporation building, when Belle felt things were finally fitting into place. They've already made good progress on their research, the new equipment provided by Gold turning out to be quite magic, and her boss was about to fly to the United Kingdom in an attempt to sell their first prototype. Belle sighed, taking in the sight of the solitary laboratory and feeling the calm washing over her for the first time in weeks. She thought she'd heard the faintest knock on the door, but as she laid down her glasses, turned off the laptop and headed for the door, she could see no one. She thought she sensed just the faintest scent of black tea leaves, tobacco and maybe scotch, and somehow her earlier calm was replaced by a deep sadness of going home alone, something she had never felt before. Sighing again, Belle grabbed her bag and switched off the lights. When she locked the door, she could swear the door handle was strangely warm in her hand.

Belle didn't sleep well that night. She'd dreamed of being forced to leave, heartbroken and alone, from a place that she loved like a home, and woke up with the strangest feelings of matters left unfinished, places that no longer existed and she being cared for no more. Distressed, she gulped her coffee, showered, got dressed quickly and lunged for her car, arriving particularly early at the lab, determined to dive into work and thus erase the disturbing feelings the past night had left her with.

But then all hell broke loose. News dropped like a bomb that her boss had suffered a car accident and was now in the hospital, and before Belle could muster her reticence and speak fruitless protests, she was being sent home to pack and around late afternoon she was waiting to board the plane to Heathrow, so that in two days, first thing on Monday morning, she would present their solar cell prototype to the UK buyer. Her head was spinning, her heart thundering at the memory of her fear of planes, and as she took her seat by the window and was instructed to fasten her seatbelt, she just wanted to _bolt_ and run back to her peaceful and secluded old lab. Plans of bolting were made tenfold more difficult when the steward announced that the plane doors had been closed and a grumbling passenger speeding down the aisle was crashing with the force of a tornado in the seat next to her, clicking his seatbelt. Belle closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down, but all calming intents went out the plane's window when she heard an all too familiar thick brogue humming low and somewhat panicked in her left ear:

"Dr. French?"

"Mr... Mr. Gold?!"

They stared at each other in disbelief, wide blue eyes meeting chestnut ones, stupor plainly written across both their faces, as the plane started moving, howling like a dragon preparing to blow flames for the next eight hours.

* * *

*** Can't post the link here unfortunately, but if you google "Rumbelle tea", you'll find it. :)**


	3. Transcending realms

Dr. Belle French had all the degrees and expertise that a top scientist could aim to earn, and yet, at this particular point in time and space, neither seemed remotely helpful in the face of the furious pounding sounds coming from the plane's engines and her own flurry of disquieting, electrical thoughts. Questions of "_How?"_ and _"Why?" _ were twinning in her mind faster than she could ever hope to get DNA helices to coil, back at her lab, and they all gravitated around the vision in black currently, and quite gingerly, seated to her left.

Having Gold in the unexpected posture of flight companion seemed to act as a catalyst for her fear of flying. Although their nature remained a mystery, Belle could feel new emotions pouring into an already simmering potion of anxieties and fears, sky-rocketing her light-headedness. Gold's presence by her side was fringing all probability laws, and she should have known better than to put past the headstrong man the attempt to defy statistics.

Shivering, her vision blurring of its own accord, it was near impossible to make out the words an increasingly alarmed Gold was breathing near her ear. Well, hear him Belle could not, but feel him she did, the warmth radiating from his body a pleasant contrast to the cool air starting to ruthlessly poke at her from the plane's ventilation system. She could tell his brogue was thicker than usual, his voice as soft as she has ever heard it, but she swiftly discovered that such thoughts were not helping her condition. At all.

What always comforted Belle in such moments of utter panic was this little trick that she'd invented, a brief escape to another, more familiar time and place. She would use it to catch her breath when feeling anxious, as one often is when working with hazardous chemicals, and she would awkwardly acknowledge to herself that it had also saved her reputation in quite a number of social gatherings. She could only hope the little time-travelling stunt wouldn't fail her at this time either.

The trick consisted in focusing her mind on one aspect of the current situation that she had absolute control over. Well, she had little say in either safely flying the aircraft or having to spend the next hours in Gold's company, but there was one thing that Belle knew and could handle quite well, and that was chromatics. The fact that her boss was dressed in shocking all black merely gave her the incentive she needed, and it took no coercing at all for her thoughts to comfortably digress to what she had learned back in college, during the physics lectures.

And so, as Belle pictured in her mind's eye the black suit Gold was wearing that day, more images readily followed, portraits of other black suits he had worn during their numerous meetings. Each was of a different shade of black, had a particular cut and was spiced up with a distinct tie to suit his mood and intentions - to impress, intimidate or impel, and yet each was so very much _him_.

Black, a colour that is no colour at all, but the lack of any. It suited Mr. Gold. A man dressed in black - a man coerced by his own nature to lead a grim life. A man who chooses, day after day, to live in darkness, sentencing himself to a solitary existence devoid of feeling and flavour. A man who, by doing so, has become a black hole, greedily collecting all trinkets and trophies he comes into contact with, hiding them in his shadowy lair only to realize that they do not make him happy. He is but trapped with them within his own void for all eternity, frozen in time and unable to break free.

Belle can't help an inward, self-deprecating laugh as her mind further attempts to rationalize her whitening vision as a feeble attempt of the universe to counteract all the black in Gold's countenance. As if by stepping into his path she could somehow open imaginary curtains, let some light into his existence and dissolve part of his darkness. White, all colours of the rainbow combined, pure and joyous, the very life pulsating with its good and bad, in strong hues or barely discernible ones. Life, enthalpy and entropy, collisions and conversations, confided secrets and soul deep touches, warm smiles and imprints on the other one's skin; brave, bookish girls fond of old monsters striving to become better men...

"_Now where did all that come from?_" Belle shakes her head and takes a few deep breaths, noting relieved that her grounding technique works even at 30,000 feet above ground. She feels much calmer, and gives her thanks to science for once more being her anchor. She does not feel brave, not at all, but as she gradually loosens her grip on the arms of her seat, and her eyes shut less tightly, she knows that she is at least trying to be.

She hears Gold's voice from afar coming closer and closer, one airy coordination sphere at a time, and she feels warm, hesitant fingers gently brush away a stray curl from her cheek. Then, unexpectedly, a slightly trembling hand blankets hers on the arm of the seat. When the drumming of Belle's heart subsides to a somewhat tolerable level, she tentatively opens her left eye, peeking in Gold's direction.

_"Not a takeoff-induced hallucination then," _ she thinks to herself as her gaze meets real and concerned brown eyes.

"Dearie?" Gold seems to be studying her just as much as she is him, his face creased with worry. She knows it shouldn't warm her as much as it does, after all, any man would be concerned in his place. And yet he is not any man, and, for some strange reason she cannot comprehend, she doesn't want to miss a single second of him wearing that soft expression. Gradually, his features relax into slight amusement and something else, something that Belle thinks might be akin to fondness.

"That's... good," he says tentatively. "Now, would you please try to open both your eyes for me? You look funny," he chuckles.

And so Belle bursts into genuine laughter, feeling it take away the remnants of her anguish. Not only does she open her eyes, but she dares to peek through the plane's window, and she's relieved to find the sight considerably less terrifying than the previous image imprinted in her mind - racing tires impatient to leave the runway.

"Here, would you take a sip?" Gold whispers as he forwards her a glass of water he has seemingly magicked out of nowhere, and Belle grasps it gratefully, offering a small smile in return. She proceeds to bury her nose in the tiny plastic container, wondering how to go about a conversation.

"Well..." Gold exhales loudly, as if he's the one who has just gotten a heavy weight off his chest, not her. "It's common knowledge my presence elicits all sorts of responses. And yet, this has most certainly been a first," he adds smugly, and Belle's nose crinkles in distaste inside her glass.

"No reason to scoff, Mr. Gold," she replies, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible given the situation. "It just so happens that I'm a bit afraid of takeovers... takeouts... _takeoffs_!"

_"Clearly, I am not as recovered as I have thought,"_ Belle sighs as she leans her head against her chair in dismay, whispering a tiny, yet pertinent _"_Fuck_"._ Gold, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying himself to bits. He watches her from the corner of his eye and she can tell that he's trying, quite unsuccessfully, to suppress a ferociously grand grin.

"Profanity on a business trip, Dr. French?" he chuckles, shaking his head in mock outrage. "It's a good thing we're not Academics," he adds, leaning towards her, and, for one horribly confusing moment, Belle thinks he's about to poke her shoulder with his.

_"Fine, let him have his fun," _ she thinks to herself._"Eight hours are plenty of time to pay him back in full."_ Belle grins in her cup.

"Maybe you should try to rest a bit, Ms. French," Gold forwards, seeing how his prodding elicits no further response from her. "You look quite tired." His voice is once again soft, yet Belle fails to register the concern in it, focusing on his words instead. _"Seriously, Gold? Calling me dirty mouthed, then telling me I look a mess?" _ She manages to suppress replying with another profanity - or, more likely, with a string of.

"Yes, I'll do just that," she says flatly as she turns her back to him, a bit more forcefully than necessary, and cuddles into her seat. For long minutes she strains her ears for any sound coming from Gold, before she realizes what she's doing and chastises herself for her stupidity. Belle's last thought before sleep overtakes her is that she hasn't pouted like this since she was but a little child.

* * *

Her traitorous body must have turned in her sleep, because when Belle awakes, she finds herself leaning on her left side, facing Gold. She's pleasantly warmth, and she wrinkles her nose happily when she notices she is wrapped to her neck in a soft, light blue blanket, its corners embroidered with the air company's monogram - "Golden Air".

Her boss, too, seems to be quite at ease. Belle studies Gold as he sits in his seat, glasses on the tip of his nose, laptop on his thighs and a focused look on his face. He has discarded his suit jacket and a colourful bunch of post-its now emerges from his shirt pocket. Every once or so often he frowns, a deep crease forming between his brows, and she can't help but smile, knowing this is exactly how she looks when she focuses on clipping DNA vectors.

"I like your... handkerchief," Belle teases in a drowsy voice, eyeing his shirt pocket, and Gold flinches slightly, clearly not expecting her to be awake. His hands flutter in his lap, as if unsure whether to close the laptop or not, and for the first time Belle considers he might be as unsettled by the situation as she is.

"Don't worry, I won't steal away any corporate secret," she adds, accompanying the words with a smile to let him know she speaks in jest.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. Well, to the airspace of the flying," Gold returns her smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you," Belle nods, flushing slightly at the memory of her earlier tantrum. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distract you from your work," she continues as she shifts in her seat into a more dignifying position.

"I wasn't working. Alas, no corporate secret to be stolen. I was..." Gold pauses, uncertain. "Well, writing, actually. It's a... hobby of mine." He shrugs, as if he's just let out the least interesting piece of information, yet no better words could have been spoken to get Belle's full attention.

"Oh..." is all she can say as her eyes widen in surprise and she finds herself fighting the urge to peek towards his laptop, curiosity slowly eroding propriety.

"Yes, it seems I have found my muse the moment I set foot in this plane", Gold whispers conspiratorially, leaning towards her again, and Belle thinks her blush must quite match his magenta post-its.

"Hence the 'handkerchief'," he continues. "Inspiration has a way of striking when you least expect it, in the most peculiar of places, and one must be prepared to embrace it."

Belle briefly wonders if he's just said that he'd like to embrace her in a peculiar place.

"Well, I do love books. It's a... hobby of mine," she grins as she returns his words. "Maybe one day I would get to read you?" She forwards, tentative but hopeful.

"Ah, well... you see, I'm a difficult man to read."

"I've always liked a challenge," Belle retorts, one of her brows raising in defiance of its own accord. She can't help but notice how Gold's eyes stray to her curls as they spread atop her blue blanket when she shakes her head and smiles at him.

"Aye, that you do," he says, barely a whisper.

* * *

The two flight companions spend the next hour or so in comfortable silence, with Gold tapping lightly into his computer and Belle admiring the clouds sword-fighting their way into the sunset. Every once and again Belle would steal a glimpse of the man beside her, his eyebrows no longer burrowed and looking more at ease than she has ever seen him.

Although her stomach rolls slightly at the faintest smell of cooked food, Belle can't help but feel grateful when the cabin crew begin serving dinner and Gold is forced to put away his laptop. She was starting to feel jealous of the warm electronic thing perched so comfortably in his lap. She just wants to talk to him some more. The man is a mystery, and one, she realizes, she would like to uncover.

Belle is determined to refuse her meal and see that evil little cart away as soon as possible, when Gold surprises her once more.

"Thank you," he says as he picks up the tray containing his dinner from a warm eyed older lady who Belle thinks looks more fit to own the Bed and Breakfast in a small town than travel the skies. "Do you perhaps have something lighter for the lady," he inquires.

"We have just the thing, Sir," the woman replies and she fumbles inside her cart, quickly emerging with another tray containing a generous salad, bread rolls and three kinds of cheese. Belle receives it sheepishly, voicing her thanks to both her attendant and her boss, who appears just as eager to attend to her needs. It's not long after Belle tentatively digs into her salad and unwraps a Gouda cheese that she realizes her appetite has returned. A quick glance over at Gold's meal is enough for her to eye the pickle accompanying his steak, and for her mouth to water.

"You can have it, dear," he says, startling her. "It's just a pickle," Gold chuckles.

"I know it's just a pickle!" Belle retorts, biting her lip, embarrassed that she's been caught in the act of spying his food. "But thank you," she grins and grabs the proffered item gingerly. It makes a delicious combination with her cheese, and Belle sighs in contentment. When her eyes drift back to Gold, he's staring longingly at her mouth, and Belle begins to feel remorse for taking it from him. Or maybe it's not the pickle that he longs for at all... She almost chokes on her water.

"Would you like some coffee or tea?" a passing by steward inquires, saving Belle from giving the notion further thought.

"Tea," Belle and Gold reply simultaneously, and they look at each other, grinning.

"Three cubes of sugar and a liberal amount of milk?" Gold asks.

"Yes," Belle replies, surprised. _"How does he_ _know?"_

Belle quietly sips her tea, loosing herself in thoughts of "what if"s. It's not like their lab's never ending supply of teas and chocolates comes from... _"no, it couldn't possibly..."_

* * *

Another hour later and Belle returns from the ladies room to find Gold asleep in his chair. She tries to carefully move past him, but such attempts of hers are almost always futile. Thankfully, the accidental nudge she gives his knee when she trips over his cane and almost lands in his lap doesn't manage to awake him. Sustaining her weight on the arms of his chair, her face inches from his, Belle blinks, steering away those peculiar feelings that threaten to resurface. She manages to get herself safely back into her seat, and she scoops up the blue blanket, wrapping it around Gold's shoulders. He looks so different from the man at the office, here and now, so different from the man all her friends are terrified of. She's never been scared of him. Angry, yes, feeling like she could strangle him with her bare hands, but never afraid. Belle smiles as her own eyelids flutter close as well.

* * *

The next time she wakes up, it's to the wailing of a baby coming from one of the seats in front of them, to his mother's desperate soothing attempts and to the grumbling of other passengers. Belle stands and peeks over the seats, scientifically assessing the situation.

"Excuse me, would you mind if we try something?" She asks the child's mother, who turns to look at Belle pleadingly. "My little niece is fretful on long trips as well, but she always relaxes when I read to her."

There's a shimmer of hope in the young mother's frayed eyes, and her voice trembles when she speaks to Belle. "Yes, please, I-I... It's his first trip by plane," she says apologetically.

"Well, from the way I reacted earlier, you might say it's also my first plane ride," Belle smiles self-deprecatingly in an attempt to soothe her. It earns her a low chuckle from Gold. She quickly rummages the bag under her chair and bounces back up victoriously with a book in her hand. Ever so gently, the mother passes the little bundle from her arms to Belle's, who sits back in her chair, flicking through the pages in search of her favourite story.

"Do you always carry fairytale books with you, Ms. French?" Gold asks, merely a whisper.

"Only this book, Mr. Gold," she smiles, shaking her head. "Only this book."

It's not like she's out of practice, she has read to her niece only a couple of months ago, when she and her family went to the mountains and the winding roads made the little one queasy, but this little boy simply wouldn't stop crying!

"Why don't you let me try?" Gold asks, startling her. He's spreading his arms to take the baby from her, and she must have made quite a face because he freezes half motion and adds a puzzled "What?"

"N-nothing... here," Belle carefully slips the little one from her grasp into Gold's, who cradles him gently. No more than several minutes of Gold reading to him later, and the baby relaxes in his arms, his desperate cries turning to whimpers, then to soft murmurs. Blushing, Belle thinks she would probably react the same, were she the object of Gold's attention. She has never heard his voice sound like this, so warm and deep and loving, and the little one seems to be just as impressed as she is because he reaches up a tiny hand and brushes his fingers against Gold's nose. That earns him a giggle from both Gold and Belle. She can't keep track of the time they lay there, the little one safely tucked in Gold's arms, Gold's voice pleasantly vibrating in her ears. And the baby's, hers and the baby's, of course. His accent seems to thicken with every mile they fly over the Atlantic, and at this rate, Belle thinks, she wouldn't be able to understand him at all when they reach the UK. The intimidating, quirky businessman had his appeal, definitely, but Belle finds herself enthralled by this casual, calm, warm and attentive version of himself.

Gold sighs, content with the warmth of the little one now peacefully sleeping in his arms, before returning him to the welcoming, grateful arms of his mother. Then, Ms. French and Mr. Gold find themselves talking until sunrise, quiet whispers as to not wake the baby or the others. _"It seems there are some perks to flying after all"_, Belle thinks.


End file.
